A Rise, A Rose, A Ruse

Now 9 hours into 11 years,

I reflect on shadows on pains on fears.

The world traded two towers

for two pools of tears.

A rise, a rose, a ruse.

My pop wed his wife

and sloppy they kissed,

then shared the aisle with a terrorist.

I cried with mobs

and pumped my fist.

A rise, a rose, a ruse.

My gal that day

caught new mom's bouquet

and saved a rose to loft today

into the hole

where they now stay.

A rise, a rose, a ruse.

But we won't bend

between the pews

or pray to end

this burning fuse.

We won't ascend.

We choose to lose.

A rise, a rose, a ruse.